Everything is Connected
by Kinners
Summary: Ten guilds, working together and sparring with each other as they see fit. One city, as multifaceted and wondrous as the multiverse of planes. Five hopefuls, struggling to find a place in said city. One story. And an apocalypse raising from the past.
1. Chapter 1

**_Viri_**

Staring into the maw of the Nephilim, my life flashed before my eyes. The first time I walked through a guildgate; the dread realization as we put the pieces together; our failed confrontation of Niv-Mizzet; and finally, this. Death at the mouth of a mindless ancient, with no one left to write our tale into legend or warn Ravnica of its impending doom. How had our plan fallen so far? What could we possibly do to remedy this?

_Why?_

I gave a relenting sigh of utter defeat as it placed my head between its jaws.

* * *

Ravnica. How does one describe it?

The guilds make things complicated. They all claim benevolence, but in reality, none of them are as good as they sound. I learned that the hard way later on. But when I first came to Ravnica from Innistrad, the massiveness of everything baffled me. I was young and naïve, laughably so. I'm surprised that I lasted at all, let alone as long as I did. Guess that's dumb luck for you.

But as confused as I was by Ravnica, there were others who had it worse than I did. In different ways, certainly, but it was still hard. As the Guildless say, if you can make it here, you can make it anywhere.

I made it. But it didn't matter in the end.

* * *

Walking to the heart of the city, I was dumbfounded.

People thronged through the streets like it was nobody's business, ranging from elves to goblins and everywhere in between. Back in Innistrad, the biggest metropolis was Stromkirk, a Victorian-era sham run by the vampire nobles. Even that city was nothing compared to this. Not only in terms of size, but technology. Paved streets, electric lights, engineering feats I could never imagine from my country hometown. Strange beasts were led around by stranger people, and sometimes vice versa. Having entered through the market district, I mistakenly assumed that the whole city was like this, and wondered how the heck anything got done in this place.

After shoving my way into the main streets, I was greeted with a refreshing sense of order. Things ran a lot smoother here, the traffic regulated by flashing lights and strapping officers. I crossed a street and dropped my pack at the corner of a building, pulling out a map. I identified where I was-the intersection of Orzhov Avenue and Court Street. Where the heck did _that _weird word come from? I hadn't a clue. But in order to get to the College of the Heights, where I was to begin my studies in heliomancy, I had to trudge all the way down Court and then make a left on Sage's Row. After that, it should be dead ahead.

Trusting my instincts, I surged down the sidewalk with a fresh energy in my step. I was certain that I would reach the college without incident, and I could start classes as soon as I arrived. Boy, was I wrong!

"Hey!" I cried as some blind idiot bumped into me. He was wearing a bluish-black cloak, with the hood pulled low over his face. I turned after him, and as he looked back at me in a frozen moment, I caught a glimpse of his face. Pale face, slicked-back hair, and wide blue eyes. I was held by the sight for a long moment for a reason I couldn't discern. But then he turned and was off, faster than a vampire from a revolt. And believe me, that's fast!

From behind me streaked three other men swathed completely in black, hot on the first guy's trail. Suddenly I realized that the fear in his eyes wasn't fear of me but of his pursuers. Ever the goody-goody, I tore after them, my elven frame weaving me through pedestrians at a breezy speed. Well, half-elven. Long story, I'll explain later.

The four dark-robed guys ducked into an alley on their left. Regaining my cautiousness, I slowed down at the alley's corner, peeking around it warily. The first guy had backed up almost to the wall, and the other guys had surrounded him.

"You are far behind your tithing to the Orzhov," grated the middle one. I shuddered despite the humid day-either that thing was undead, or I wasn't an elf. Elven intuition is spot-on when it comes to necromancy. We have a natural anti-affinity for that kind of magic; I mean, have you ever heard of an elven necromancer? I thought not.

"I-I'm working on it," stuttered the first guy in a breathy voice. He backed up even further, until he brushed the brick. I could see his hand inching to his belt, as if he was about to pull a knife on these things. Like that would help.

"I'll pay you by next week, I swear," he blurted, panicked sweat beading on his forehead. "I've finally got a paying gig, but it's not until tomorrow, I just need more ti-"

"We have given you enough time!" rasped the middle wraith again, pinning the poor guy to the wall with a bony hand. I realized then that they weren't just dressed in black-they were literally ebon-black, down to their fleshless fingers. "You will pay now, in this life or otherwise. If you cannot, then that is not our concern. You will pay."

I could see death's touch creeping up the man's neck in gray tendrils, causing him to wince in nihilistic pain. I reached into my satchel, fingering around for the right pocket. I had to do something.

"_Illuminati!_" I belted suddenly, rushing into the alley and thrusting a golden powder out in front of me. The stuff sparked into light, blindingly bright and scalding to the touch. The wraiths shrieked as the purity burned them, crumpling to the floor in agony. I seized the man's hand and bolted back out of the alley, only turning to see my good work when we were safe at its entryway. The smoldering remains of the undead were still burning away into golden dust, but their otherworldly screams had ceased. The adrenaline turned into euphoria, and I turned to smile at the man I had just saved.

"That was a close one, huh?" I said breathlessly. He nodded simply, leaning forward to rest his hands on his knees.

"Who are you?" he asked suspiciously, narrowing his eyes at me as if he didn't trust me. I decided not to take it personally-after being attacked by those things, I could imagine that he would be careful around things that appear too good to be true.

"Viri Shyleaf," I introduced. "Soon-to-be student and, hopefully, future alumni of the College of the Heights. And you?"

"I can't say," he replied almost apologetically. Almost. "As you just saw, I'm not exactly famous for the right reasons."

"Are you famous?" I asked incredulously. Famous people back where I came from were usually in charge of the undead, not pestered by it. He gave me a sly smile.

"If I was, I wouldn't be in this line of work," he purred. He nodded at me, still eyeing me as if he didn't trust me.

"And what work would that be?" I asked tactlessly. "Oh, wait-let me guess. You can't say." He shrugged guiltily. "It's okay, I understand. Some things should be left unsaid, y'know?"

"Thank you," he said sincerely. "for saving my neck back there. That's the last time I take a loan from the Orzhov."

I blinked at him. How could you owe to a street? He stared at me for a long time, not sure if he was confused or shocked or both.

"...I take it you don't know what that is?" he questioned. I shook my head blankly.

"I'm new to Ravnica," I explained. "Just moved from Innistrad. Who are they?"

"You don't want to know," growled the stranger, kneading his brow. "The holy facade is what it is: a facade. They look nice enough compared to the other guilds, but don't get any closer, because that's only the surface. The whole operation's-you know what? I've said too much already."

"I don't want to know," I agreed. He smiled at me, nodded, and was off into the crowd. I blinked at the space where he used to be, trying to pick him out in the throngs of people, but he was nowhere to be seen. With my elvish eyesight and photographic memory, I'd never lost someone in a crowd before. How had he done it?

"This town is weird," I grumbled to myself, turning and heading on my way.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Rusin**_

The job itself wasn't a problem. In fact, everything would've gone as smoothly as an oyster down your throat. But it was the aftermath that gave me troubles.

As a rookie in the secret guild-well, let me back up. Some backstory would shed some light on the subject, even though I typically frown on the shedding of light on subjects. I'm a Ravnican native, born and bred in the alleys of the mid-lower city. I learned how to keep my head down, back out of a tough situation, and most importantly, how to get what I needed. That eventually blossomed into what I wanted, which is what got me noticed in the first place. Let's just say I tried to pick the wrong pocket. I barely nicked out of that in time...half a moment later and there was no way I could've gotten out of that situation. But I vanished in time for my intended victim to look like a paranoid idiot. Unfortunately, he also escaped with a pocket uncleansed of its contents.

Somebody noticed, which was something I usually didn't appreciate, or even allow. But the guy that noticed was someone special. He managed to see through my 'rookie magic,' as he called it, and was duly impressed by my talent. He offered me a job, to see if I would fit the bill for being a new recruit. Apparently there's a secret guild that's been sneaking around under everyone's noses for years. He told me that it there was a market for people like me, and that was what this mystery guild was all about. Still a bit of a 'young'un' myself, my curiosity was piqued. So that was the fine mess I found myself in on this particular morning.

I'm not a morning person, but I was chomping at the bit to get started. I was tired of being an oppressed Guildless; I was the type of person who tended to be targeted for my low self-esteem and less than imposing frame. I didn't want to be the victim anymore, so instead I started to make other people the victim, starting now. I was sent to relieve an Azorius politician of a certain artifact, something that had been confiscated from an Izzet warlock whose experiments got a little too crazy for the Azorius' liking. I was only given a brief description-magical, golden, two prongs, planetary etchings. I figured that something that specific couldn't be that hard to find.

So I made my way down Orzhov Avenue, checking my back once in a while. You could never be too careful with the Orzhov. They could be watching your every move and you would never know the difference. They appeared benevolent to everyone, but once you got under that appealing outer shell, the corrupt core would stick in your nostrils for weeks. I happened to be one unfortunate enough to get past the outer shell, so I was understandably jittery in the home territory of a guild that I owed to. The Orzhov are notorious with debt, a fact that had cursed me and my mother for years. Father, you ask? Never knew him, or anything about him, for that matter. One of thousands of sob stories in this insane city.

When I finally turned onto Senate Street, I calmed down enough to admire the towering alabaster structures and obsessive orderliness of the Azorius in full stride. I knew from the grapevine that it was every Azorius officer's dream to expand this harmony to all of Ravnica, but those of us in the lower elements knew better. As long as the other guilds existed, there was no possible way for this dream to be realized citywide. The other guilds wouldn't allow such a monopoly, regardless if it was supposedly for the greater good.

In the residential area, pedestrians thinned out, so I pulled up my shroud. The guy who'd given me the job had given me some tips on efficiency, but this magick was my own creation. My mother was a mage school dropout, so she taught me the basics and I did the rest. There wasn't an Azorius lawmage around that could crack this shroud, because that would require an understanding of the spell's very fundamentals. Which was something that only I possessed, because it was a unique spell.

Just because I was getting full of myself, I pickpocketed a coinpurse from a lawmage on guard. I chuckled to myself, confidence restored-there was no way I would be caught. I could always disappear.

Checking the address on the slip of paper I'd been given for the job, I identified the right house and brazenly strode into the courtyard. Well, calling it a house is like calling the Gruul loosely organized, in the sense that it's such a massive understatement that it's not even funny. Marble pillars, lawmage runes, a lawn trimmed perfectly down to each individual blade, the works. This must have been one rich stiff, which made the job all the more exciting. Looking around casually for surveillance, I peeked through the double doors and allowed myself in.

The indoors was even more impressive than the outdoors. The main room was floored with tile and was large almost to a fault, more akin to a ballroom than a front room. An unlit chandelier dangled from the domed ceiling, snuffed as to allow the natural light to stream in from the giant northerly window. The window crowned a flight of stairs that grandly rose from the floor and split in two when it met the wall, rising up either side of the wall. Mentally casting Feather Fall in my head to lessen my weight and lighten my footfalls, I ran up the stairs, half suffocating as I struggled to keep my breath inaudible. I hid beside the window rather than in front of it, because you can still cast a shadow even if you're not within the spectrum of visible light. Considering the predictability of Azorius, the office was up the left flight to represent the more businesslike left side of the brain. I jogged up the corresponding flight, quelling my inner butterflies. This was a bigger job than I'd ever done, but I couldn't get nervous now. Not after I'd come so far. Not to mention the brain-splitting monotony of Azorius trials.

I was delighted by carpeted floors, releasing the feather fall spell that had been taxing my magical reserves. I followed my ears to my victim's office, almost laughing aloud at his flustered grumbling. About to look through the doorway, I had to yank my head back almost instantaneously or be discovered. The politician stormed out the door, raving about some sort of revolt on Foundry Street. I found him ridiculous for two reasons: one, revolts happened all the time on Foundry Street, to the point where it was basically a way of life down there. Two, he was obese. Terminally so. His robes looked like they were stretched almost threadbare by his girth, and their color was simply not flattering against his skin tone. But I had bigger fish to fry than this porkchop.

I ducked into the room, listening intently for the sound of the doors. Once I heard the Azorius representative leave the house, I dropped my shroud, relief flooding my temples at the lessened strain. I then racked my brain for a spell that would reveal to me the location of this precious artifact. As an amateur mage, I freestyled with my spells, instead preferring to concoct hexes on the spot when I saw a need for them rather than puzzle over them and write them down beforehand. I'm an on-the-job thinker that way. After about half a second's pondering, I reasoned that this artifact would have to be some sort of magical entity. Therefore, if I probed the room for magic, I could find it easily.

Definitely Gruul and Azorius magic for this spell; both guilds had a use for seeking magic, most of the time for a seek-and-destroy type of mission. It took me a moment to rack up the right combination for this. You see, the skeleton of every style of magic has two basic components: the words/motions, depending on the spell, and the mindset. A skilled magic user can cast things with just the latter, as that is the most important part. You could have memorized the whole spellbook, but if you don't feel it, the most you'll get is a small fountain of useless sparks.

I took a deep breath, adjusting my stance. I pictured myself a colossus standing over a city, searching for the one magical cheat that will lead to my downfall. A fighting stance, but a confident one simultaneously. In my head I emphasized the imperative to find that magic, that upstart, that dangerous spark that will topple me and all I stand for. I would spare you the theatrics, but at the moment I was casting the spell, I truly felt it. I had to, otherwise it would've fizzled.

When I opened my eyes, I saw through some twisted blue remix of reality. I saw the edges of physical objects with decent clarity, but I saw straight through them into what lay behind their physical shapes. I stared into what was apparently a column of file cabinets, attracted by two bright white entities in the two middle drawers. The one on top contained two throwing knives, supposedly enchanted, probably expensive. But my priority was in the drawer below the knives, protected by a shimmering Azorius insignia.

Smiling to myself, I knelt down beside the drawer, touching the insignia gingerly with a finger. The charm zapped me, causing my magical view to flicker for a moment. An anti-magic hex-very clever. I was able to repel the hex with a few Gruul syllables and sheer willpower, but I couldn't simply burn my way through to the artifact inside. For two reasons: one, I may damage the artifact inside. Not likely, but certainly possible, and with negative consequences. Two, it was likely that there was some sort of failsafe in case someone busted through the charm and escaped. A failsafe that would likely involve rallying guards and zapping me with a medley of unpleasant hexes. This would require precision and a subtle hand-much like pickpocketing. The good news? I'm an expert at that.

I shielded my hand in a shroud spell similar to the invisibility one that I used on myself so often. But rather than warding off visible light, this particular enchantment warded off magic itself. In normal eyesight, my hand would not appear special, but in my magic-seeking vision, the color surrounding my hand switched from the blue magic-seeking haze to regular daylight. The haze spread up my hand to my arm, and switched to my other hand for good measure. I bit my lip, my hand nervously hovering over the handle. My aura was flickering erratically-if the spell faltered for but a moment, off goes the trigger. I _couldn't_ get caught.

I pulled the cabinet back, breathing a sigh of relief when nothing happened. I looked inside the drawer, at first ignoring the gleaming artifact within courtesy of my trapfinder's instinct. I scoured all five walls, finding no further spellcraft besides the brilliant magic of the trinket itself. I descended into normal vision, concentrating further on my hexproof enchantment now that I couldn't physically see it to monitor its status. The thing inside the drawer certainly matched the description I was given-golden, two prongs, planetary etchings. But it seemed...volatile, somehow. As eager as I was to get this gig over with, in the back of my head was a temptation to fiddle with it. But that temptation was quelled by my fear of screwing up, which was such an overwhelming terror that it would give any haunt a field day.

I warily fingered the artifact, feeling sparks on my fingers as I grasped one of its prongs. My shrouding spell seemed more solid now, even though I didn't consciously siphon more energy into it. I slowly pulled it up off of the floor of the drawer…

...and that's about where everything went straight down the drain.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Thonen**_

I spluttered awake, rudely awoken by the blaring alarm shrieking from inside the doorway by my side. Muttering swears under my breath, I stumbled into the office, glancing at the magical break-in hologram on the desk. A copyrighted Izzet insignia beeped at the bottom of the insignia, while above it glowed a map in fuzzy blue light. I recognized the Azorius district immediately-only that guild could have perfect circles and right angles wherever you turned. Not bothering to look at what building was being breached, I hefted my Skullcleaver on my shoulder and bolted out the door.

I hopped over a marble balcony onto the blacksmith's rooftop below, sliding down it and kicking up sparks with my steel-rimmed boots. I landed with a bone-shaking thud on the dusty earth, running backwards for two steps to greet my uncle.

"Hiya, Thared!" I called. Uncle Thared always got grumpy when I didn't say hello to him, or when I called him Uncle on the job. But he tended to be grumpy a lot anyway, so I tended to break those rules when I felt like it. He had strong features, with weathered skin and thinning mouse-gray hair. But his blue eyes were intense enough to melt holes into your will.

"Hurry up! You're late!" he retorted, assuming that I was from my disheveled appearance. He was right, most of the time, and probably would be again. I hadn't bothered to take a cart, as public transportation always felt too slow for me. Most of the time it was actually faster, but I enjoyed the thrill of the parkour. I faced forward again, Skullcleaver trailing behind me as I leaned into the headwind. I vaulted myself onto another rooftop, using my massive height to spring from one roof to the next with little effort. I could spot the sparkling white Azorius district from here, and made for it pell-mell. I even jumped all the way over a street, barely making the edge with my hand and hoisting myself up.

Y'know what else I could spot from two blocks away? The crime scene. Azorius and Boros officials swarmed around the place, making it impossible to get in or out without being detained by some shortsighted lawmage. Mostly Azorius, seeing as it was their home territory and they have ego problems. Not that the other guilds don't, but Azorius is one of the less-respected guilds among the citizens because of their annoying nosiness, so they're hyperdefensive. Boros does their job regardless of what the people think-another reason why they're one of the only guilds I have tolerance for.

I hopped down from a rooftop across the street onto the sidewalk, shattering the pavement in the process. I stride on across the street, dodging between the plugged-up traffic until I reach the blue tape. I duck under the magical string of runes hovering in midair, making my way over to the only Azorius officer I actually respect.

"What took ya so long, Thone?" he teased. I gave him a rough smile, narrowing my eyes at the businesslike prick holding a clipboard next to him. He had light brown hair, a drawn face that seemed too old for him, and a to-the-point attitude that was out of place for an Azorius member. Garret Tythe, the rising star of the Azorius bureaucracy, and the best crossbowman this side of Ravnica. One of the closest things I have to a friend nowadays.

"I made record time, Garret, and you know it," I retorted with a scowl. "Ain't an Izzet transport or Simic krasis to match me. The boots help, too, to keep my feet from going numb, but mostly it's me."

"Whatever, Snapping Drake," he shrugged, returning to the clipboard that his assistant had handed him. "I just hope you're fast enough to catch whatever crook nicked into Representative Barnks's office. We've locked down the perimeter, nobody's gotten in or out since the alarm went off. Bit of a dunce, thinking he could escape before we locked down. Heck, escape at _all._ We were about to send a team in. You game?"

"I'm always game," I said gruffly. I walked inside the house, ignoring the spluttering bulk of Barnks and gesturing for the retrieval team to follow me. They grudgingly followed me, carrying none of the selfless discipline that a real Boros soldier would possess. Azorius talk pretty tough, but besides Garret, I haven't met a lawmage or enforcer who can walk the walk. Azorius aren't big on actually doing things, which is where we Boros pick up.

I looked around, the ballroom-esque front room reminding me of a stale political dinner party. I hiked up the stairs, my boots thudding throughout the cavernous house. On a whim I went up left first, which was surprisingly the right way. Up ahead was Barnks's office, papers scattered across the floor and drawers hanging out of their sockets. I was about to storm in when Barnks himself appeared in front of me from out of nowhere. He startled, laying a hand on his bosom as if I had given him a heart attack.

"Thank heavens!" he gasped, out of breath. I tried to get around him into the office and start tracking the crook, but he was so massive that his pudginess spanned the entire doorway. "A loyal Boros, at last! You must find him. He knocked me unconscious and ransacked my office, taking an object of utmost importance to a criminal investigation. It was mere moments ago, he can't have gone far! Hurry!"

I needed no further goading. I whirled and sprinted down the stairs, making it down both flights in seven giant steps. But once I reached the floor I skidded to a halt, causing the squeaky tile to screech in protest. Hadn't I seen Barnks outside?

I whirled around again, looking up the stairs. Barnks-or who I had thought was Barnks-was gone. I turned to see the Azorius representative booking it out the door.

The doors hadn't finished swinging by the time I was out there. Slamming down the perfectly paved driveway, I tackled Barnks in a flying leap, giving him a solid punch on the jaw once he was down to incapacitate the imposter.

"You're under arrest for impersonating the honorable Barnks, you two-faced-" I was about to call the illusionary mage an unprintable name, but then Garret yanked me off of not-Barnks.

"What are you doing?" hissed Garret, a fury burning in his eyes that made me feel both apologetic and barking mad. Two Azorius officers helped not-Barnks to his feet, while the representative sobbed. He pointed a fat finger at me, pouting as he did so.

"What are you playing at here, Boros?" he accused. "You can't fool me! You ran out of those doors moments ago. You never went back inside."

I stopped for a moment, letting the gears turn in my head. Finally the penny dropped-I just caught a shadow flit behind a corner far along Senate Street.

Swearing loudly, I tore after the thief, furious that he had made a fool out of me and slipped away right under my nose. People back at Fort Boros called me the Snapping Drake for a reason. I'd never lost a criminal in my life, and I always caught up to him and gave him a good roughing before the authorities could save him. My affinity for metal and stubborn disposition helped, too. But I was not about to lose my record now.

I cut through the crowd, eyes burning with the hunt. I hopped on the back of an Orzhov treasury thrull and from there backflipped onto a nearby rooftop. From there, I had a drake's-eye view of the crowd. There-that guy was pushing through the crowd with an unusual urgency. It _has_ to be him. But he was still half a block ahead of me, and Ravnican Boulevard was two blocks away. Once he turned into that sea, there was no chance that I could catch him.

Maintaining a bead on my quarry, I burst forward with the potency of an Izzet experiment gone haywire. I leaped clean over an alley, dodged around clotheslines, even used the head of a fellow Boros thunderfist to cross the street. The criminal I was chasing weaved through the crowd nimbly, and sometimes I even lost sight of him for a second or two. But before I could come down in front of him, he was about to turn into Ravnican Boulevard. I could practically feel him slipping through my fingers. Now or never.

"No *$&#ing _way!_" I hissed.

I took a flying dive off of the corner of a building, connecting with the sidewalk with a giga impact. The cement shattered around me, my ears ringing and my whole upper body numb. Shaking my head to stabilize my equilibrium, I somehow stumbled to my feet. The world was swimming around me. I didn't catch him. For the first time since my enrollment at Ft. Boros, I had lost the target.

Swearing again, I kicked a nearby building, causing some of the bricks to crack. I was vaguely aware of Tythe and the rest of the Azorius coming towards me, trying to clear the area of civilians before I exploded. I was also aware of the hollow ring of defeat in my chest. What had I proven just then? That I was unfit to be Boros. That the guys were right about me and my failures. That I'd let Mom down.

Garret put an arm around my shoulders and said something that should've been comforting, but I pushed him into the wall and heard more rubble being born. I ran, the defeat turning into hot rage. Where I ran, I don't know. I just rampaged around the city, sprinting away from my life and my problems. I was in such a tizzy that I almost decapitated a pretty elf girl on Sage's Row. Or maybe I did. I can't remember...everything turns into a blur when I get in a mood like this. That would probably explain why lots of things are blurry to me.

Because I simply don't care anymore.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Kalzit**_

I paced impatiently, wishing that thief-for-hire would hurry himself up. Keljin's weird wasn't getting any weirder, and my time in the rented experitank was a-wastin'. These days time in an experitank was more precious than gold to the Izzet and Simic, ever since the Azorius Senate had revised their Scientific Humanity Act. Now there were thousands of experiments and theories that were now legal, wholly or otherwise, and thousands of guild members dying to try out their ideas. I wasn't sure which borders my particular project fell into, but I did know that it was so potentially earth-shattering that I wasn't taking my chances with an Azorius prick. Not with this beauty.

Of course, it would all be meaningless without that resonator. Hadn't I made the time clear enough? A full two days should be enough time to swipe my Strionic Resonator maquette, surely. What kind of a thief needs that long in the first place? *$#, _I_ could steal something in less time.

What is taking so long?

At the very thought, I fumed-and when I fume, I take it out on the nearest technological marvel. That happened to be the control glove on my left hand, the one synced with my sister's weird. I lifted the streamlined tool to my face, careful to point it away from me rather than accidentally blind myself with the so-dark-it's-bright X-ray signalbeam on my palm. A light with that wavelength would scar my retinas, but it also happened to be the kind of light that most weirds saw with. Which meant that many weirds had the ability to see right through most things less dense than lead. The glove itself was made of whitewashed lead, and was correspondingly heavy. At the moment the light wasn't turned on, because I didn't want random x-rays bouncing around and affecting the outcome of my experiment. Even with us Izzet, if you need a result, you have to know all the variables. All of them.

I scowled at the glove a little, demanding in my head for the thousandth time why Keljin had to be so dang persnickety about every little thing. There wasn't an uneven surface to be found; even the inside of the glove felt like it was lined with a hypersensitive silk that must have cost my sister an entire day's salary. I swear, she's OCD. Why can't you just let a creation's own ingenuity speak for itself? Must you smooth over its perfect imperfections? Is it really necessary to take a buzz saw to every little thing that isn't just right?

"Eye of the beholder," I muttered to myself, flexing my fingers to activate the glove. What appeared to be a mass of water in various stages of matter beyond the glass alloy wall suddenly sparked to life-literally. Electricity danced across its surface, awakening the elemental. I flexed my fingers, watching the water move with me. I smiled to myself. For all her impossible quirks, my sister was as much the genius as I. Honestly, who else could have figured out a way to condition a Grade Alpha water elemental straight from a Vedalken professor to respond to x-ray signals by changing its state of matter via conversion of electric energy to heat? Not even me. But don't get the wrong idea-I can't do something like that simply because water isn't my area of expertise. I'm more of a steampunk kinda guy. People say that that makes sense for me because I'm sparky, blunt, and a tad unpredictable.

The weird seemed to move just as fluidly and delicately as my sister would have it. I clenched my fist to reduce the magnitude of the x-ray signal, causing the weird to freeze in place. Its heart of purple gel shone in query, making muffled bubbling sounds at me from within its icy carapace. I opened my hand slowly, watching it obediently dissolve into water. Though it was obvious that the weird wanted to pool on the floor naturally, it collected itself into a complex rotation in order to remain stationary. By the time I'd finished opening my hand full-throttle, it had evaporated into a cloud of water vapor. The gel core remained, however, surrounded by a swirling steam cloud. My fun was interrupted when the door to the observation side-cell was banged on.

Glaring into the ceiling and heaving a sigh, I stormed over to the door and keyed my individual activation code to allow whoever-you-are in. He bolted inside, slamming the door shut again behind him. His eyes were wide with fear of pursuit, he took a deep breath and extinguished a lock of long black hair, which had caught fire. I wasn't surprised at his appearance-Izzet experiments frequently got out of hand, and involved fire equally as often.

"Finally," I brassed, cocking an eyebrow at him as he slicked his hair back and cast his bluish-green gaze over me. For some reason the color of his eyes put me off. They seemed...too bright for some reason. Yet at the same time the emotion that they gave off was something unplaceable. I instantly didn't like this guy.

"Took ya long enough," I continued. I tend to be extremely annoying to people I don't like, which contributes to my reputation as a stubborn, insensitive, sarcastic workaholic. "Who takes two days to steal something I could fit in my-"

"Shh!" he hissed suddenly, whirling and backing into me. He became whisper-quiet, poised to move anywhere for any reason. I continued ranting.

"Where have you been?" I snapped indignantly. "Do you have any idea how long I've been waiting? Who do you think I am, a quantum-mage? I ain't got no say over time, but I got a say over you, you lazy-"

"_Shh!_" he repeated, elbowing me in the gut. That shut me up for the moment, but what kept me quiet for a prolonged period of time were the heavy footsteps and heated words outside the door. I finally got it-this guy had a tail. The direness of the situation hit me like a boot to the behind. If I got caught below the law, it could mean the end of my career, possibly even my sister's. I can't do that to her, or myself, for that matter.

"Listen," I whispered, barely daring to breathe. "You see the SOS up there, next to the emergency sprinkler?" He looked up at the black semicircle suckered to the ceiling, not needing to say anything for me to go on. "It's a Safety Omni-Sensor. If something sets it off, all forms of energy are cut off and siphoned from the experitank and side-chamber and the floor drops out from under us. There's five feet of electron-neutral gel down there, and I have the exit path from the dropout memorized. If they bust in here to apprehend us, you set it off and we run for it."

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that," he gulped in a breezy voice, looking from the pounding door to the omnisensor. "but just in case, what will set it off?"

"Basically an abnormality or excess of anything," I explained, unconsciously evolving into my sciencey jargon. "A spike in temperature, a change in air pressure, increased amounts of gases such as nitrogen or carbon monoxide-"

"English," he insisted tensely. Sighing to myself, I thought of the simplest, most boring reason to set off the SOS.

"An explosion will do," I grumbled, still hiding behind him. "...wait, what are they still doing out there?"

"With any luck, scratching their heads," replied the thief, a smile flashing across his pained face briefly. I suddenly took into account how stiff his stance was, how forced his words were. The conversation outside seemed confused. Could they be arguing over what the personnel sensors told them?

"Are...are you _casting_ something?" I asked incredulously. Most spellcasters I pictured in my head were strict lawmages or passive druids. Nothing like this scruffy little street rat. He forced a smile at me that looked more like a glare from the look in his eyes.

"Yes, now back away, carefully." he ordered, not bothering to explain any further. Deciding to trust in him, I did so, attempting to make it look careful yet natural. I returned to playing with Keljin's weird, admiring in a frustrating way how it always managed to freeze in a gorgeous, immaculate surface. It was as if it shared my sister's OCD. But my outer casualness was a mere disguise for my inner uneasiness. It felt like forever, with the thief still as death and me messing around and trying not to think about the law outside the door. Finally the footsteps outside stamped away, and the guy relaxed.

"That was _way_ too close," he gasped, collapsing against the observation wall with a face that seemed older than before. "Maybe I shouldn't come up with spells on the spot. Instinct almost killed me."

"'Instinct' must have been pretty !*$ # good to keep them out of this room," I retorted, gaining respect for this guy after what he'd just pulled off. "It takes no small meddling with magic to fool an Izzet sensor. We think of _everything_. What did you come up with that we didn't?"

"From what I garner, Izzet sensors use a variety of variables to determine what is alive and what is not," he said between gasps of breath. "such as motion, heat, and certain other substances such as lifegiving gases and solids. In order to fool all of them, I would basically have to give the sensors what they wanted to see: a normal room. I basically told your technology that I'd melted into the atmosphere for two full minutes."

"You can do that?" I echoed in awe. I had no idea magic could be so creative. "How?"

"A professional never reveals his secrets," he purred mysteriously, flashing me a smile that was unnerving and exciting at the same time. "Can I trust you to keep my name confidential?"

"Yep," I affirmed automatically, not giving much thought to his sensitive request. He shook my hand lightly, still smiling.

"Rusin," he introduced. I nodded, goading him to cut to the chase in my head. "Not-so-amateur illusionist and general underworld consultant. And yes, I have your relic, and no, it didn't take me all of two days. We haven't met, have we?"

"No," I realized. "I'm Kalzit, Izzet extraordinaire. Gimme."

Rolling his eyes slightly, he pulled my precious Strionic Resonator out of the inside of his jacket from where I thought nothing hid under the innocuous folds. My face lit up at the very sight of it-finally I could get to business!

I took it from his hands and strode to the observation wall, making for a rubber-sealed port in its center. I pulled open its foldable drawer, slid the resonator in, and shut it again as the containment mechanism restabilized the atmospheres in the observation room and the experitank proper. I watched the relic clang to the floor, stifling a shudder at the minor key it played. I smiled giddily at Rusin, elated at the magic I was about to work myself.

"Watch and learn," I said, flexing my control glove.


End file.
